Little League Musings: Here's A Few Things I Wonder About

John Nash

Published 8:00 pm, Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Well the Little League All-Star season is in full swing and in my ump-teenth summer of covering the 12-year-olds of New England there are plenty of things I've learned about the sport from my own playing days and plenty of things I can spout off about.

So, here goes:

• It's time for Little League venues throughout the country to stand up and follow in the footsteps of the folks down at Williamsport: It's time to move the fences back. In my day and age, hitting a 200-foot home run meant something. Yet there I am time and time again this summer watching teams hit five, six, seven home runs a game. That's just ridicules and uncalled for. It cheapens the home run and when you're No. 8 hitter is changing the game with a 205-foot fly ball "home run" it's not fair to the pitchers. Modern aluminum bats send the balls flying, so its time for the fields to adapt to the times. Williamsport recognized the issue years ago and moved their fences back. It's time for Little League fields across the country to do the same.

• While we're on the subject of Little League home runs, let me clue you in on a pet peeve I've have developed. Teams rushing from the dug out to greet a home run hitter at home plate. Why does this have to happen? Walk-off home runs, I can see. The game is over, it's a thrilling moment. Celebrate away. But a solo home run in the bottom of the first inning and the whole team needs to come rushing out as though they just beat the Taipei National Team? Give me a break. The National Little League governing body makes its players rigoursly stay in their dugout and they're not allowed to touch a bat and blah blah blah ... Yet they allow this rush to the plate, which face it, could be considered a minor case of poor sportsman because it's showing up the pitcher standing just 40-something feet away. Stay in the dugout and congratulate the home run hitter when he gets back there — just like the Major Leaguers do it.

• On Tuesday night, while covering the Ridgefield National vs. North Stamford game, I actually witnessed this: The North Stamford team, trying desperately to get their team back into the game after falling behind 6-1 early on, was rooting on their teammates during their respective at-bats. You've heard the calls "C'mon (insert your name here), Let's go (insert another name here, Here we go (insert so-and-sos name here)." It's what your taught, right? To support your teammates no matter what the score, right? Well lo and behold, out comes from the Ridgefield National manager from the dugout to complain to the home plate umpire that the other team was "distracting" his pitcher during the wind up. Then, worse yet, the umpire actually turns to the North Stamford team and tells them to stop it. I couldn't believe it ... an umpire actually told a team to stop rooting for their teammates. What has Little League come to? No wonder so much of the country is turning to Cal Ripken ball. (For the record, this same manager, whose team had a huge lead most of the night, came out of his dug out multiple times to question mundane things, so you can pretty much expect such things, I guess).

• Speaking of umpires, let me offer this up to the District 1 umpires: As far as calling the game goes, you guys are doing an outstanding job this summer in the games I have seen. Bang-bang plays are getting called correctly, you're strike zones are being called consistently and, with a few exceptions, you're being fair with the kids. I dare say this is the best job of Little League umpiring I've seen in quite some time, so that's a shut out to all of your between the base line as well as Rob Rossi, the D-1 Umpire In Chief. Keep up the great work, because the games are getting more and more important.

• While watching an unnamed pitcher throwing in the tournament, myself and a dad (not his) were talking about some of the players and the future they would have in high school. I saw this pitcher throw about three pitches when I turned to him and said, "Mark my word, this kid will never pitch at the high school level." He was a good pitcher, too, but when he opened up with three straight curveballs — all of which missed the zone — it could feel his elbow inflaming from where I was standing. I remembered the words of a college coach I know from Michigan who taught me two things about throwing the ball: One reason no kids have "great arms" anymore is because kids don't go out in the back yard and throw anymore. The second was don't waste your time teaching a 12-year-old boy to throw a curve ball. Save his arm until he's older and teach him to throw a change up. Food for thought.